'Tis th'afternoon after. Last night was saturated in cheap beer and smoke and getting stupid (and walking stupid far) with Kyle James Lebel et al. I woke up, still wasted, to purse full of soggy falafel in a one bedroom apartment with six guys strewn about and one next to me. What a weird morning. Nostalgia, like pain, is absurd. I skipped on Sushi
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